


Hunter Hunted

by Kimmimaru



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Animal Attack, Blood and Gore, Broken Bones, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 00:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13846293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimmimaru/pseuds/Kimmimaru
Summary: Hurt Noct Week Day 2.Prompt: Noct gets attacked and severely injured by a wildlife or daemons.Pretty much exactly what it says on the tin.





	Hunter Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> From a very long piece to a very short piece.

The darkness closes in around him. The cool air turned hot in his lungs, burning as he gasps in lungful after lungful. The stars are barely visible behind the clouds, the moon's light merely a sliver of silver highlighting the path ahead. His muscles strain as his boots pound at the hard earth beneath his feet and bushes scratch at his stinging skin. Sweat sticks his hair to his forehead, his mouth is painfully dry.   
  
He has no idea how long he's been running. His light went out ages ago, smashed apart on a rock as he had tripped and fallen. His knees are skinned, he left behind a smear of blood on the rock from the palms of his hands. Still he runs, fleeing wildly into the night as the rapid sound of padded feet race after him. Already he's left behind the cries of his friends, the clash of weapons and any chance at safety he had left. He had been easily separated, his warping ability putting too much distance between him and his friends. The pack of Voretooth had been vicious, far more so than Noct had first anticipated. He had warped into the centre of the pack, listening to their whooping cries as he had slashed left and then right. They had herded him away, as the sun set in a blinding display of red and gold. He had fallen, twisted his ankle and had had no choice but to flee. Even now he could hear the remaining pack hunting him, calling to each other in their eerie voices.   
  
His muscles burn. The shadows seem to reach for him, desperate to ensnare him in their deadly claws. Exhaustion causes him to see movement around every tree, every rock, every corner. His chest is tight, lungs burning as they fight for air. He stumbles. A muffled cry of shock escaping him as he catches his foot on a stone, he trips and falls, rolling over and over and down a sharp incline. He crashes to the bottom, head smashing against more rocks he gasps as agony lances up his spine. His eyes water, he can't breathe and his vision goes grey and wobbly. His head pounds, his back twinges. His fingers twitch as he lies still and hears the creatures drawing closer, smelling blood. Noctis tries to draw in a full breath but the fall has winded him, he tries to move but his limbs are too heavy, aching and pain pulses behind his eyes every time he twitches a muscle. As the sound of padded feet draw closer he knows he's fucked.

 

He attempts to draw on his magic, to at least summon a weapon but his worst fears are confirmed when he isn't able to focus long enough to do so. He tries to roll over, to crawl to safety if he has to, but it's useless as his legs refuse to obey him. Terror, the likes of which he hasn't felt since he had come face to face with the Marilith daemon as a child, courses through him, paralysing him much better than any spell ever could. He can't move his legs. He can't _feel_ them. He manages to draw in a long, shuddering breath, his vision clears enough to see four creatures begin the descent down the hill. He blinks away tears, face scrunching up as he uses his hands and arms to roll himself onto his front. It's an agonising process but determination sets in, survival instinct overtaking all of his aches and pains. He begins to drag himself away, it's slow and he knows, deep down, it won't help but he has no choice. He has to try. He can't die here. He can't die yet. He's too young, he's supposed to meet Luna in Altissia. He can't die before that. He has to get revenge on Niflheim. He uses the fury of losing his father, the anger that has plagued him since Galdin Quay and the terrible news of the destruction of his entire world. He uses it to fuel him as he begins the painstaking process of dragging himself towards a thicket of spiky bushes. He forces away the terror that threatens to consume him about his legs and why, _why won't they just move_? Panicking won't do him any good. He needed to get to safety.

 

As he's struggling to find some semblance of shelter in the thorny bushes ahead of him he can hear the sudden upsurge in cries from his pursuers. They're excited, they know that their prey is wounded, they can smell it. Noctis bares his teeth, using his trembling arms to drag himself over the rocky ground. His muscles cry out, burning and resisting his efforts but he keeps going. He's not entirely certain where he is but it feels like an old river bed, dried up years ago. His only hope is to cross it and get inside those bushes, hopefully the thorns will deter the monsters. There is no other option.   
  
He's halfway across the river bed when he feels hot breath against the back of his neck. He freezes, listening to the heavy pants above him and closes his eyes tightly, preying for the first time since he had seen the destruction of his home. His fingers curl into fists, so tight he can feel them tremble. He bites back a whimper of terror as an errant tear forces it's way past his tightly shut lid. Then the thing nudges him, he feels the scrape of teeth then there's a sound that sends chills down his spine. Much more terrifying than the Voretooth. It's a sound that chills his blood, turning it to ice. It stops the breath in his lungs as he hears the Voretooth yelp and a sudden burst of activity as the entire pack flees. A low, menacing growl that shakes the very earth itself.

 

Noctis lifts his head, helpless against the urge to look as the ground shudders and shakes, the trees around him creak and rattle. The Voretooth are long gone. Then, out of the sparse trees steps his death; a Behemouth. The thing is smaller than usual, yet still large enough to swallow him whole. It's young and Noctis thinks female by the size of it's horns. She swings her massive head around, sniffing at the air as she scents prey and intruders on her doorstep. Then she roars, the sound deafening in the small hollow. Noctis slaps his hands to his ears, wincing. The creature swings her massive head around, glaring at him with her baleful amber eyes. They lock gazes for a second, yet it feels like a lifetime to Noctis. He swallows, his throat dry and painful. His bottom lip trembles as she approaches, each step careful and wary, her long, sinuous tail sweeping behind her.   
  
Somehow Noctis finally manages to summon a weapon, his sword finds it's way into his hand, heavy and somewhat comforting. He knows he's in no condition to fight, he can't even stand. But he rolls onto his back just as the creature opens her jaws above him, with a cry he shoves the blade upwards, into the roof of her mouth. Her scream is so loud Noctis can feel it in his bones. She jerks back, shaking her head, growling and spitting as blood pours from her jaws. Noctis summons his blade back. His arms are drenched in Behemouth blood, thick and almost black in the darkness. Noctis scrabbles at the ground, using his arms to once again drag himself backwards. The Behemouth recovers enough to notice her prey is getting away, she roars again, stamping her feet before charging. Noctis lifts his weapon, but it's about as useful as a toothpick as the monster bats him aside. He flies through the air and smashes into a pile of rocks, the remnants of some sort of broken cliff. Once again, the air is driven brutally from his lungs and he can't breathe. His ribs and lungs burn, stars flash in front of his eyes as he lies draped over the rocks, mouth open as he tries to draw in breath. He knows he's broken quite a few bones, he knows he's royally fucked now. His sword glimmers somewhere to his left as moonlight breaks through the cloud. It's the last thing he sees before teeth the length of his lower arm pierce his flesh.

 

He thinks, distantly, he hears cries. Someone calling his name and the clash of metal and the scent of burning ozone. There's flashes of light behind his closed lids but he doesn't let it draw him out of his new, dark refuge. He lies still, unable to move. He can feel his heart beating, but it feels strange, too slow and heavy. He's not in any pain and he's vaguely grateful for that. The noise soon fades and all that's left is an insistent ringing and then...nothing...

 


End file.
